


The Darkangel

by Never_Stray



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angels, Eastern Folklore, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fantasy, Humor, Magic Mokuton, Rating May Change, Romance, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:48:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28881960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Never_Stray/pseuds/Never_Stray
Summary: After angels reduced her first coven to cinder and ash, Sakura never felt quite at home. She wandered from land to land, honing her magic and searching for a place to belong, until one day, she receives a dreaded black scroll— an imperial summons to Kirin, the capital of the seraphate. As she faces the deadly Archangel of Fire in his city, high above the clouds, all her goals are whittled down to just one: survive.A gust of wind lifted the hair off his forehead, and his empty eyes chilled her to the bone.He was a nightmare.“You look surprised.”Sakura willed the tremor from her voice. “You’re not how I imagined.”
Relationships: Deidara/Haruno Sakura, Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke
Comments: 10
Kudos: 38





	The Darkangel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be a lil one-shot to procrastinate writing my fight scenes for Duplicity, but it kind of turned into a YA paranormal trainwreck & I def drafted this entire chapter to Ocean Eyes on repeat lmao

_Flame is not the only fire. — Meredith Pierce_

✨✨✨

**The House of Witches, Shikkotsu Forest**

_Fifteen years ago_

Ashes fell from the sky.

Sakura cupped her palms. White powder all over her skin. Definitely ashes. Sister Shizune made her practice spell circles with this stuff all the time, especially since she was five now. Every time she opened that big jar in the classroom, her nose would itch.

“Sakura!” Sister Tsunade’s voice rang from all the way across the meadow. “Come back, we have to go!”

Sakura clambered to her feet. Sister Tsunade was the nicest and strongest witch in the whole world. She _never_ got scared. And right now, she sounded pretty scared. She gathered up her bounty— twelve bluebells, four daisies, and a big earthworm— and tottered back towards the forest edge.

The damp soil seeped between her toes and— _oh!_ Her sandals. She couldn’t forget her sandals.

“Hurry!”

“Coming!” She hiked up the hem of her skirt, brushing through the wildflowers. The clouds were really dark, like it was going to rain soon. It was getting hard to see.

The wind picked up, rustling the tall grass around a familiar leather strap— _ah ha!_ Sakura plucked her sandal, frowning when a shadow descended over her, growing bigger and darker—

_“No! Run!”_

Heavy hands gripped her under the arms and snatched her off the ground. The meadow fell away beneath her feet, shrinking to a tiny, green square.

Sakura looked up and saw… a man.

He had to be, because his chest was wide and flat. None of her sisters had a chest that looked like that. But he _couldn’t_ be a man because there was a massive pair of wings on his back, covered in white feathers, like a bird.

“Let me go,” she said, spitting the hair out of her mouth.

Cold eyes looked down at her, and his face split into a smile that was all sharp teeth. “Why should I?”

Her sandal slipped from her fingers, plunging through the clouds. They were so high up. “I’m scared. I want to go home.”

He laughed. The sound chilled her to the bone. “Are you sure? Take a look.” They plunged towards the earth. Sakura screamed the entire way. 

He pulled out of the dive, and the sight below pulled the breath from her lungs.

_Fire._

A sea of flames, as far as she could see. Grey smoke rose as thick as wool, as the mystical trees of Shikkotsu Forest were black skeletons haloed in the blaze. Her home was burning…

As she watched, the Great Sequoia, the heart of her coven ignited. “No…”

“That’s a _tall_ tree isn’t it?” the man tutted. “Let’s see if we can help it along.”

Sakura heard him inhale, and a fireball erupted from his mouth, bursting against the thousand-foot tree. A glowing crack ran down the trunk. With a sickening _snap,_ the tree bark split like a banana peel. “You’re a _monster_ ,” she said.

He laughed, and anger surged through her.

The Forest dwindled by the minute, and she was nowhere close to the ground, but Sakura could still feel it— magic, the living energy of nature. She channeled all that she could into her fist and threw it at the monster’s chest. It felt like punching a tree.

He hissed a bad word, then: “Fine. Have it your way.”

The monster threw her.

Sakura plunged into the inferno, smoke filling her lungs and singeing her hair. Her burning home rushed up to meet her, the flames licking at the hem of her coat—

Strong arms caught her.

Sakura was pulled into a warm embrace. She squeezed her watering eyes shut. As they ascended, fresh air filled her lungs and her skin cooled. The last thing she remembered before slipping into sleep was a faint smell of camellia.

* * *

**Angels Landing, Mount Kagutsuchi**

_Present day_

After careful deliberation, Sakura stuffed the dagger into her boot. Surely, the security officer wouldn’t ask her to remove her shoes?

She peeked around the marble statue and headed across the plaza, toward the station. With each step, the ornate pearl hilt dug into her calf. Tsunade had gifted the blade to her on her fifteenth birthday, before she left the coven, but it was too pretty to use for stripping bone or carving talismens. Sakura had relegated it to the bottom of her traveling pack, where it served little purpose other than to weigh her down while crossing rivers.

Perhaps she’d known that she'd need it one day for regicide.

 _Attempted_ regicide _,_ Sakura thought sullenly.

She’d heard enough about the Archangel to know she wasn’t going into tonight with winning odds. He didn't care for the welfare of mortals. 

“Coin for bread?”

A mousy boy tugged at her tunic. His scarf might have been blue once, but Sakura was willing to bet it hadn’t seen soap or water anytime since he’d left the womb.

“I don’t have anything for you. I’m sorry,” she said. She hadn’t had time to exchange her gold for whatever currency the angels enforced on the mountain folk.

Virginal sacrifices? Firstborn children?

“Please,” the boy said.

Sakura was surprised there were beggars this close to the Sanctuary. “What’s your favorite color?”

He pointed at her shoulder, where a lock of her hair had slipped out from under her headscarf. _A charmer._ “Good choice,” she declared.

She closed her eyes and felt for the energy of the Earth, beckoning it to surface. A patch of peonies sprouted through cracks in the pavement, brilliant and fragrant.

“Nice,” the boy said. “But I can’t eat these.”

Sakura scowled, tucking her hair back into her scarf. “Sell them.”

“It’s past dinner time.” He whined, picking his nose.

Sakura kicked the ground, and a reluctant blackberry bush as tall as her waist sprouted.

The boy circled the bush, regarding it with great suspicion, before gathering a fistful and shoving them into his mouth at once. He spat them on the ground, looking utterly betrayed. “These are gross _._ So many seeds. And _hairy._ ” 

_Why this little—_

Sakura plunged her hands into earth magic and _yanked_. The ground rumbled, and the stone pavement swelled and burst as a sprout emerged, twisting until it was as thick as a man’s torso and splitting into fruit-laden branches. Sakura discovered this species in the Land of Nectar two years ago. She plucked a particularly fragrant mango and dropped it in his hands. His jaw was slack.

“Don’t eat the skin,” she said tartly.

He tore it apart with his thumbs and took a big bite. He chewed thoughtfully. “Kind of stringy but… oh _yeah_ , this is the stuff. Hey guys! You’ve got to try this!”

Out of nowhere, a gaggle of barefoot children appeared. The plaza came alive with their squeals and chatter. They ate beneath the statues, in the shadow of wings, smearing their sticky fingers on marble angel toes and littering the pristine plaza center with mango skin and gnawed seeds. Sakura couldn’t help but smile, until she remembered.

The lift!

Sakura sprinted towards the station, relieved to see the lights still on. It was an open station with a high ceiling and little internal partitions. She joined the line in front of the table marked “Interviews,” relieved to see one last departure marked on the timetable.

The security officer sorted the line: some travelers were permitted to pass, others were turned away. By the time she approached the table, they were the only two souls in the station.

“Identification,” he said. Sakura produced her citizenship scroll. “Sakura of Konoha, Hidden in the Leaves, Land of Fire.” He unfurled it to the end, frowning at the inky mess of stamps. “Where’s Konoha?”

 _Hidden in the leaves._ She bit her tongue. “In the central woodlands.”

His eyes roved her face, and she heard all his unspoken questions: her ears— _elongated?_ — her nails— _claws?—_ her forehead— _horns?_

Sakura smiled, strengthening her glamour.

“Authorization?” he finally said.

Sakura passed him the black scroll, stamped with the _uchiwa_ seal— the Archangel’s Summons. In jerky motions, he gathered her documents and tucked them into his desk. “Wait! I’ll need those to come back,” she said.

He shot her a pitying look, and Sakura had a sinking feeling that the black scroll was a one-way ticket. “Come with me.”

He led her into the dark station, toward the central fountain. At its edge stood… an angel. The first she’d seen since the siege.

“You’re late,” he said.

Folklore held angels to be immortal beings with golden hair, blue eyes, and wings like pure snow. But Sakura knew their beauty belied an endless hunger for violence; it was another weapon in their arsenal, to captivate their prey.

Tsunade’s voice rang in her head. _Be brave, Sakura._

She squared her shoulders. “The scroll said one week.” Sakura had been waist deep in a jungle when the imperial hawk found her. She’d dropped everything to make the deadline.

“He meant three days.” The angel wore his blond hair pulled back in a leather thong. He led through a dark hallway, leading to the back of the station, lined with dumpsters and nestled against the cliff’s edge.

Outside, the air was hazy with clouds. Belatedly, Sakura realized the security officer had not followed. “What now?”

The angel looked at her dryly. “What do you think? I’m going to fly you up.”

Panic shot through her. “Isn’t there another way? The lift— “

“Left the station. You missed the last one.”

“I’ll wait until morning.”

“Your summons expire tonight,” he said, incredulous.

The gaping ravine below widened its jaws. She looked at his arms, and thought of the monster’s cold laugh. He’d had blond hair too. “I’ll wait.”

“No you won’t. Come here.” He lunged for her, and Sakura darted back. “For fuck’s sake, you—” He froze, staring at her forehead.

Her glamour was gone.

“Never thought I’d see one of _those_ again,” he said.

She knew he was referring to the lavender Wicca mark on her forehead. After the siege, a schism formed in her coven. Some blamed Tsunade for failing to foresee the catastrophe, and others believed there was a traitor in their midst who’d revealed their secret location to the angels. Satellite covens split off and abandoned the old traditions. They earned coin selling spells for deceit and seduction. Infant registration at the Academy dwindled as their reputation tarnished. Weakened, the once great House of Witches fled to Konoha, a vast reservation they shared with other factions.

They faded from the public eye. All because of angels like him. Sakura drew magic to her fists.

“You want to fight _me_?” he asked. “Are you serious?”

Well, no. She didn’t know how to fight. But he didn’t know that. “I’m not getting in your arms,” she said.

 _“What?”_ He burst out laughing. “That’s pretty forward of you, princess. Trust me, if I were carrying you, it would be to my bed, not another man.” He brought his palms together. A gust of wind blew into the station, and a massive, white bird ascended the cliff, perching at the edge.

Her lips parted. A conjuring. And an impressive spell, at that. “Where did you learn this magic?” she asked.

“Is that what you people call it?” he asked. “This is my Gift. We all have one.”

“The Gift of birds?”

“The Gift of art. Want to see?”

“No,” she said quickly, disliking the sly gleam in his eye.

He slapped the bird. “What are you waiting for? Hop on.”

The bird was smooth, made of clay. Sakura found purchase in finger-holes carved into the back of the bird’s neck **.** Her stomach lurched as they ripped off the ground.

Eventually they leveled out, gliding alongside a pair of long cables, threading the clouds. When they sailed past a gondola of passengers, suspended from the cables like a talisman on twine, Sakura’s breath hitched. “What is this?”

“An aerial lift,” he said. “Don’t you know?”

She didn't know anything about the station except the sparse directions on the Summons. “Who powers it?” It had to be air magic. Air was a Heavenly element, which the angels held dominion over.

“This guy at the Kirin station,” the angel said. “He hates it.”

“He does this all day?”

“Yeah. That poor bastard’s got a couple centuries left to serve.”

They overtook the gondola. Angels were known to be secretive, but this one was talkative. “What’s the Archangel’s Gift?”

He rolled his eyes. “I lost track a few centuries ago.”

“He has more than one?”

“Why do you think he’s the Archangel?”

 _Centuries._ The oldest person Sakura knew was Tsunade, who’d celebrated her hundredth and twenty-third birthday this year. _The hundred resets to zero,_ she’d insisted. “How old are you?” she asked.

“Old enough. Are you flirting with me again?”

“ _No_.”

“I’d consider it,” he said, in a matter-of-fact tone. “You’re pretty cute. I haven’t tasted a mortal in years.” He grinned, and Sakura’s blood rang cold.

There had been rumors that the angels had… evolved. That after eighteen thousand years, their species had turned to depraved pleasures and forbidden acts to stave off the ennui of longevity. Lethal fangs gleamed at her under the moonlight.

_Predator. Blood-drinker._

“No!” On instinct, Sakura summoned magic, but this high up in the air, where no part of her touched the ground, there were only whispers. She was helpless.

“You sure?” Blue eyes flitted to her neck. “I’ll make it good—”

“Don’t touch me.” She scrambled back.

“Alright, alright, it was a joke,” he said. “Don’t fall off.”

Sakura didn’t dare look behind her.

“Look, the last time I dropped a guest, he cracked my chest open. You know how hard it is to breathe with one lung?” When she still didn’t move, he huffed. “ _Fine_ , I’ll get off. Are you happy?” He jumped off, spreading his own wings. He glided up on a draft, white feathers quivering in the draft.

Cautiously, Sakura resumed her position at the center of the bird. Her ears popped. They were flying faster, in tight ascending circles, gaining altitude. “Do you really drink blood?” The wind swallowed her question. Her hair whipped about her face, and she clenched the bird, sure she would blow right off.

The first glimpse of the city she caught was a golden mast, tipped with a phoenix. As the clouds parted, she saw a great tower with seven floors, each with its own projecting roof, curving towards the moonlight and tiled in gold leaf. It looked like— “A temple?”

“Duh. You haven’t heard of Amaterasu?” he asked. “Goddess of the Sun? Progenitor of fire?”

Sakura shook her head. Witches held only one thing sacred— the God Tree.

The bird touched down with a jolt. Sakura slipped off. They were in an aviary with vaulted ceilings. Dozens of hawks roosted on the twisting bamboo branches. Outside of the open wall, a celestial city sprawled below on a foundation of clouds. A glittering stream of silver flowed as far as she could see, like a river, and pearly walls enclosed the city. Kirin, the—

“The Unburnt City,” he said. “That’s where it got its name.”

And home of the Archangel’s Sanctuary which was, presumably, was the building she was standing in. Maybe the last building she’d ever stand in.

No. She’d survive, she decided. No matter what it took, she’d see her friends again and feel the Earth between her toes.

He grinned at her expression and gestured out the door. “Follow the spiral stairs to the top. If you fall off the tower and die, you’ve gone too far.”

“Thanks.”

He leaned against the tower wall. “On the slim chance you survive, I’m Deidara.”

She swallowed. “Sakura.”

**✨✨✨**

Too many stairs later, Sakura climbed into a central atrium. It was deserted.

Muted moonlight filtered through a domed glass ceiling onto the sparse furniture. Sakura took in the lacquered table, carved seats, and tatami mats with bemusement. A tea ceremony shelf stood bore intricately wrought bowls and water jars in a silvery metal she didn’t recognize.

She’d expected his taste to be more… ostentatious. Marble and gold. That kind of stuff.

Sakura waited for two minutes before curiosity got the best of her. She wandered towards the edge of the atrium and chose a room at random.

Imposing wooden desk, boxes of scrolls, bookshelves— his office. A carved relief of a great battle between two rather terrifying looking beasts spanned the wall on one side, and a flag bearing an _uchiwa_ spangled with six _tomoe_ hung from another.

The Archangel’s insignia.

A chill ran down her spine. She moved the dagger into her pocket.

One wall of the office was glass, and Sakura could see a ledge outside. The night air blew her hair back.

The balcony had no railing. Her stomach lurched with vertigo, but she couldn’t help but marvel at how high up she was. The moon river was as thin as a thread, and the buildings looked like ants. The tiles of the Temple glittered like gold dust in a creek. When Sakura looked up, her breath hitched— the clearest night sky she’d ever seen in her life. “ _Beautiful_.”

Every constellation, every star, as bright as though if she reached out, she could pluck them from the sky. Sakura could climb the highest mountain peak on Earth and never see this breathtaking sight.

“You’re not afraid of heights.” His baritone voice had hoarse quality, as though he was not accustomed to speaking.

A primal urge of self-preservation rooted her feet to the ground. “Deathly afraid,” she said. She took a steadying breath and turned.

Her heart leapt to her throat.

The Archangel of Fire stood in the balcony door. Despite his title, there was no light to any part of him. His face was all hard angles, and his broad frame spoke of cruel power, born of a millennia of war and destruction. His pale skin appeared bloodless in the moonlight, stark against the wings at his back— wings, black as jet, without shine or gleam, swallowing light as though they were wrought of pure shadow.

A gust of wind lifted the hair off his forehead, and his empty eyes chilled her to the bone. _He was a nightmare._

“You look surprised,” he said.

Sakura willed the tremors from her voice.“You’re not how I imagined.”

He stepped towards her. Her heel drew against the edge of the balcony, the precipitous drop. Her hair lifted off her neck.

— _no railing to catch her, can’t fall from this high up, she’d fall forever—_

“Which do you fear more?” he asked.

She closed her eyes. With a shudder, she pushed past him into the office. Her bare shoulder brushed his arm, and a line of fire shot through her.

Since childhood, she’d told herself that the regent who’d ordered the razing of her home was cruel and inhuman, with veins of dust and a heart of stone. But despite his appearance, he was warm to the touch.

Flesh and blood.

“Did you summon me to terrorize me?”

He regarded her from under lowered lids. “Sakura of the Leaf.”

She couldn’t stop her shudder at her name on his tongue. “To trade epithets then,” she whispered.

His eyes narrowed, and briefly, she considered the possibility that he’d already broken every bone in her body, and her nerve endings just had to catch up. “No, but go on.”

“The Archangel of Fire, the last of the natural-born,” — _the cruel regent, the bloodthirsty tyrant, the Seventh Coming— “_ Sasuke of the Sharingan.”

 _“_ Natural birth. Your flock still worships that.”

“My coven _,”_ she corrected.

He shrugged. “Whatever you nymphs call it.”

The comparison grated. Nymphs were nature spirits born with their powers. Witches were mortals who earned it through training and practice. Sakura knew the word _magic_ before she knew her own name. “I’m a _witch.”_

“I don’t care.”

Indignation— or some heretofore unknown suicidal streak— overtook her fear. “Of course not. You only care about power.” Fury welled. “While you were up here drinking tea, your legion rained hellfire across the Earth realm. Our lands were in ashes. People _died_.”

_Smoldering ruin._

“Wrong,” he said. “I don’t drink tea.”

He was remorseless. “Nature will have her vengeance,” Sakura snapped. “The curse will come for you. If you continue to murder, your eyes will turn to blood too." Hundreds of years ago, after the Great War, the angels divided the Earth realm into seven seraphates, each ruled by an Archangel. The angels in the Land of Fire were particularly acquisitive, seizing mortal territories and displacing thousands from their homes. Until one night, the reigning Archangel turned on his legion and single-handedly massacred every angel out of Kirin’s city bounds.

Their greatest calamity.

“You’ll descend into madness, just like Itachi,” she said. “And you’ll fall to your usurper, who will fall to his. Your whole damned race.” Her breath came in harsh pants.

“Little nymph.” The Archangel closed his eyes. When they opened, she gasped— eyes of crimson, ringed with _tomoe,_ spinning lazily. Demonic. “You flatter me.”

The world plunged into darkness. What— Light roared back in the form of a blazing inferno. The office was gone. Sakura was standing in a forest, and every living thing was on fire. She sucked in a breath, and it was smoke in her mouth, her flesh blistered in the heat, melted off her bone. This was hell—

Another breath and it was— an alluring scent. Oak and camellia. Uncannily familiar… Why did she smell flowers in a fire?

No, not a fire. An illusion. Sakura squeezed her eyes shut and shook it away. Pure adrenaline drove her to grip the dagger in her pocket.

_Now, now. Plunge it into his heart—_

His hand closed around her wrist **.**

They both started at the contact. His palm were rough and large. His grip wasn’t painful, but Sakura would rather have stuck her hand in the drooling jaws of a tiger.“You invite death,” he murmured.

Could he feel her racing pulse under his thumb? “My life ended when I received your summons.”

“So you’re aware.” His other hand caught her right. Before she realized what was happening, he clenched it around the blade of the dagger. “Itachi was my natural-born brother. I cleaved off his wings with a blade of lightning—” He squeezed harder. She’d never known brute strength like his. “— while he bled, I charred his bones to ash.” Blood— his and hers mixed— welled between their fingers. “Don’t test me, Sakura.”

He released her.

_Be brave._

Sakura scythed the dagger toward him.

He snatched it from her hand. “What did I say.”

Her nose was inches from the hard planes of his chest, where his cold heart beat. She was _so_ close. “Where would you like me to start?”

With a rustle, his wings unfurled and shrouded her in darkness. It was cruel irony that despite everything, he felt as warm as any mortal man, and he smelled not of death and rot, but something comforting. He was so tall, she had to tilt her head back. She watched his pupils expand against his red irises.

“No one’s spilled my blood in a long time.”

 _You spilled your own blood_.

He held his cut hand to her lips. “Taste it.”

Sakura twisted away. “No thanks.” All witches knew that consumption of flesh and blood was a sacrilegious. Not to mention _gross._ Sakura had been a vegetarian her whole life.

“You don’t wish to prolong your life.”

“Beyond this conversation?” Their lifespans grew with their power but none had lived past one hundred and seventy, which was long enough, as far as she was concerned. No elixir of immortality for her. “I’ll pass.”

“Why not?” He tasted his own palm.

“It’s unnatural,” she said pointedly. “Immortality. There should be a balance: Heaven and Earth, _yin_ and—” He brought her dagger to his lips, his eyes hooded. “— _yin_ and _yang._ Everything should have an end, or nothing would begin anew. Life is precious because it’s fleeting, like snowflakes or a sunset, and that’s what makes you savor— savor— what are you _doing_?”

The archangel lapped absently at the blade. _He really was mad._ When she stopped speaking, his wings snapped shut.

Sakura blinked. The sensation was a jolt, like a warm blanket pulled off on a winter night.

“Show me your hand,” he said.

“Why?” Sakura shoved her right arm behind her back. “So you can stab me—”

He wrenched it forward. “ _You_ stabbed _me_.” He spread her fingers with his thumbs. Tacky dried blood darkened her palm creases and there was a strange, iridescent sheen to her skin.

_— Two lines is an auspicious sign! You will be a powerful witch, Sakura—_

He traced the unblemished skin. “A healer,” he said. A slow smile parted his lips, and Sakura hated to admit that that the Archangel was as cruel as he was hauntingly beautiful.

“I’ve found you at last.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a brigade to revive Sasusaku vampfics like it's 2008 lol. The witches in this story are inspired by [_wupo_](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wu_\(shaman\)) from Chinese folklore. Highly recommend the Darkangel Trilogy by Meredith Pierce (childrens), Nalini Singh and Kresley Cole (adult) for more PNR goodness~
> 
> Finally for a sasusaku demon/angel AU epic, check out [Isle of the Flightless Birds](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17890325/chapters/42231332) by kyliEisMC2.
> 
> I anticipate this story to be ~3 chapters, but it might grow haha. I'd love to know what you think & thanks for reading :)


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